A Power the Dark Lord Knows Not III
by force42
Summary: Harry is about to die, and he hasn't come up with the right 'famous last words' yet. Oneshot.


**A Power the Dark Lord Knows Not III**

**Tag line:** Harry is about to die, and he hasn't come up with the right 'famous last words' yet.

**Setting:** Post fourth year

**Warnings:** Mild swearing, character death (but only Voldemort)

**A/N:** I originally came up with this idea for another fic where Voldemort doesn't call Harry's bluff. For this one-shot, I decided to see what would happen if Voldemort tried to kill him anyways.

* * *

'This is it,' Harry thought as the circle of Death Eaters surrounding him parted for Voldemort. He was about to die, and he hadn't come up with any good last words yet.

Admittedly, it was hard to think about much of anything when Bellatrix Lestrange was practicing her favorite curse on him, even with the nerve-numbing potion Snape had slipped to him. Still, every good hero had a witty final quip. Harry knew that whatever he said would be reported, and then repeated for years to come. Harry refused to move onto the next great adventure sounding like an idiot.

Harry's scar burned more fiercely as Voldemort drew closer. Harry James Potter was about to die. He'd never sneak through the castle in his father's invisibility cloak again. He'd never play another game of Quidditch with Ron and Fred and George and Ginny at the Burrow. He'd never give Peeves the paintball gun he'd snuck into London to buy and bribed Fred and George to charm for him. He'd never be chased out of the library by Madam Pince for trying to sneak into the restricted section again. He'd never find out what his animagus form would be. He'd never watch another movie with Hermione. He'd—

His thoughts were interrupted by Voldemort, who had decided to get in one last gloat. "Your powers are weak, Harry Potter," he hissed. "You should not have challenged me. Once I have destroyed you, there will be nothing to stop me from—"

And Harry had his parting shot. "You can't win, Tom," he yelled, "If you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine."

The circle of Death Eaters shifted behind Voldemort nervously.

Voldemort paused, then raised his wand. "I think not," he hissed. "Avada Kedavra."

Harry closed his eyes.

The green light flew from Voldemort's wand to envelop Harry, and Harry decided that the Cruciatus Curse wasn't so bad after all. Instant, painless death his arse.

Harry tried to scream, but found he hadn't the breath as his lungs were being crushed and his chest was being ripped apart from the inside. His entire body was burning with the coldest fire he'd ever felt. Something deep within Harry was cracking, tiny splinters and slivers pushing through every fiber of his being, trying to leave his body. With an indescribable sound, that _something_ shattered, sending Harry into convulsions. A wave of pure POWER rushed over Harry and the pain receded, leaving him with a crackling beneath his skin and a thrumming in his veins that felt good. Very, VERY good.

Harry cautiously opened one eye. He closed it and opened the other eye. The Death Eaters had taken another step backwards. Cowards. He could see the hunched forms and nervous glances that proclaimed their fear perfectly. Without his glasses.

Harry opened his other eye again.

"Impossible!" Voldemort hissed.

Harry rose to his feet effortlessly. Thunder rumbled as Harry chuckled darkly. "Improbable."

Harry's eyes glowed with the power itching to be released.

Harry flexed his hands. Energy arced and crackled between his fingers.

Voldemort took a step back.

Harry raised his hands, palms aimed at Voldemort, and released the power coursing through his body.

Green-white lighting sprung from Harry's hands, shrieked across the open air, and plowed into Voldemort's chest with a thunderclap and a disturbingly delicious-smelling sizzle. The power of the blast knocked Harry onto his behind.

A smoking pile of ashes and the aroma of freshly cooked bacon was all that was left of the most feared Dark Lord in modern history.

Harry decided that his position on the ground was not particularly flattering for a hero and vanquisher of evil, so he stood and walked closer to the Dark Lord's remains, admiring his handiwork.

The Death Eaters slowly backed away, trying to decide between bowing down before Harry and fleeing. At the edge of the group, a loud crack sounded and short, white-blonde hair flashed from above a dislodged hood as a thin figure vanished. The rest of the Death Eaters quickly followed suit and disappeared in a series of soft pops and loud cracks until only one robed figure remained.

The lone Death Eater gave a slow nod to Harry before raising a sallow, potion-stained hand from the depths of black robes to remove the bone-white skull mask. Turning it over in his hands, Severus Snape regarded the mask silently for a moment before tossing it aside. The mask fell to the dirt with a soft thud.

"Star Wars, Potter?"

Harry shrugged as he haphazardly dusted off the seat of his pants, "I couldn't come up with any last words of my own, so I borrowed someone else's."

"I did not expect that to work," Snape declared.

Harry looked up from where his still-glowing fingertips were leaving scorch marks on his trousers. "Honestly, sir, neither did I."


End file.
